


In Val Royeaux, We Speak

by wherenonagoes



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Canon Compliant, Canon Era, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-09
Updated: 2015-07-09
Packaged: 2018-04-08 13:04:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4306194
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wherenonagoes/pseuds/wherenonagoes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Syrith agrees with Dorian that the uniforms made for them for the Winter Palace aren't exactly what they imagined, and so travels with Dorian to Val Royeaux to procure something better suited.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Val Royeaux, We Speak

The inevitable was coming, and by that, Syrith meant the Winter Palace, and the Grand Masquerade he was having to attend. He’d already tried to convince the others that warning Celene would be enough, he didn’t actually have to be there, but that failed, miserably he might add. It was coming up in a few short weeks, and he knew that Josephine and Leliana had already put together a wardrobe, a sort of uniform for them all the wear, which included getting all their measurements and whatnot. The amount of fabric they were going to have to use for Bull’s almost made him laugh. But when Syrith talked to Dorian about the uniforms, or even the Ball in general, he was met with disgust.

“I can hardly believe Leliana actually wants to go in that. I certainly won’t. I’ve got better looking pajamas.” Dorian sighed, shaking his head as he continued to read a book on the bed next to him. Syrith smiled, not able to resist.

“You haven’t worn pajamas in a while, Dorian.” The man beside him wasn’t wearing pajamas now as they talked before bed, though Syrith didn’t know what he would do if Dorian decided to change that. Frown probably.

“Precisely my point. If this council of yours truly wants us to be able to stop an assassination we’ll have to look the part so people aren't gawking over how hideous we look the entire time. I won’t have you make a fool of yourself in clothes that don’t make people stare in awe.” Dorian sighed and continued to read his book. Syrith leaned over his shoulder a bit more to get a look, only to see that it was another volume on ancient magic. He’d been interested in it more lately, and Syrith couldn’t say he wasn’t as bit interested as well.

“Who said I would make a fool of myself?”

“Syrith, amatus, you’ve been taking dance lessons from Josie for how long now? And you still trip over your own feet. Either would rather you look a fool dancing than because of what you’re wearing, and that’s why I’ve planned a trip for us. We’re leaving for Val Royeaux in the morning.” At the mention of Orlais’s capital Syrith blinked. There were a great many things that waited there, but they had most of the same resources there at Skyhold, at least of whatever he could think of.

“Why?

“To tailor better outfits, of course. I’ve already gotten some rough designs drawn up. Tevinter fashion is definitely better than Orlesian, and I won’t go in anything but the best, and neither will you.” Dorian seemed more than happy about a return to his culture, and Syrith smiled, knowing it made him happy. He leaned against the other man, taking his hand and twining their fingers together.

“So you’re going to dress me like you would in Tevinter?” Syrith was a bit excited, getting to dress in the high fashion of the country his parents escaped from, it almost seemed rebellion. Of course, no one but the innermost circle knew his parents had been slaves, they’d been good about keeping that hidden. If the world were to figure out that the Inquisitor was Tevinter? Well, Syrith didn’t want to find out.

“Yes, I am, and then I’m going to undress you like I would here.” Dorian put down his book,pulling on Syrith’s hand until the elf was lying on top of him. He smirked and after looking over Syrith not once, but twice, and kissed him. Syrith relaxed into the kiss, moving his legs to slot in between Dorian’s, making himself more comfortable. He ran his free hand through his hair, before letting it rest on Dorian’s collarbone. Dorian’s free hand went straight to his ass and then to his lower back.

“I can’t wait,” Syrith finally managed, breathing labored as he laughed. Dorian smiled and laughed with him, kissing him again before letting his head fall back against his pillow. Syrith laid his head in the crook of his neck, wrapping his arms around him, closing his eyes and sighing in contentment. It didn’t take long before the elf had fallen asleep, snoring lightly, as much as he denied it. Dorian kissed the top of his head and followed soon after.

Though both of them wanted to go to Val Royeaux, neither of them woke up early enough to start the day off well. Neither of them had packed anything, Syrith hadn’t exactly told anyone he would be leaving, and so when he went to tell the council, none of them were very happy. He assured them that he wouldn’t be gone long, they’d be there for a few days at most, and they were taking a boat to cross the sea rather than ride around. He would be gone for two weeks at the most, and they could definitely handle everything that happened until then. And then the two set off, along with an assistant who Dorian had assured Syrith they needed so they could keep track of everything they spent. Not that it mattered; the Inquisition was paying for anything they happened to get there. And so the trip started.

It took only a few days to ride to Jader, and from there they took a boat to the docks in Val Royeaux, overall a week’s journey to get there. They didn’t arrive until much later into the day as well, and so Dorian and Syrith decided to retire early, they could spend the next day look for the cloth and tailors they needed.

“You know these rooms are nothing like what I had back home. The bed was twice as big, and the room, well I had a separate one for all my clothes.” Dorian let his bag fall to the ground, resting his hands on his hips. He sighed, reminiscing about his home.

“Surely you’re joking.” Syrith stopped next to him, his sack over his shoulder still. They’d brought only enough clothes for a few days, planning on getting them washed. Apparently there was a perfume that made them smell tremendous that they would be able to put into their clothes. Dorian laughed and turned, smirking before pulling Syrith closer by the waist. His smirk turned into a smile before he kissed him.

“I wish I was. I wouldn’t miss it so much if they weren’t extravagant compared to what I’m used to now.”

“How much do you miss your empty room, compared to now Dorian?” Syrith hummed his lips against Dorian’s, kissing him again. Dorian pulled his head back, as though actually contemplating the question.

“My empty room? Ah, well I must admit I do not miss it that much compared to now.” Another kiss and Dorian’s hands lowering to Syrith’s waist. The elf dropped his bag and rested his arms on Dorian’s shoulders, smiling into another kiss.

“Good.” It didn’t take long from there for them to get into bed.

 

* * *

 

Syrith sighed, smiling as he sat up in bed. Dorian breathed heavily next to him, almost laughing. The elf laid back down next to him, on his side this time, and traced his fingers along Dorian’s chest. He took Syrith’s hand into his own, bringing it to his mouth to kiss it.

“You know, before Skyhold, before Haven, I never had my own room. I mean, unless you count a tent a room.” The thought had stayed in his mind the entire time, though thoroughly pushed back during their activities. It came back now, and he felt like it needed to be said.

“What? Really? Not even when you lived with your parents?”

“No, we only had a small house with one room. With the Dalish I had my own tent when I got older, but until I turned 17 I shared a tent with another apprentice to our Keeper. It was uh, when I realized I wasn’t going to marry one of the clan members.” Syrith couldn’t help but blush thinking about it. His time back with the Dalish was good, he appreciated everything he’d been able to learn with them, but he also knew that without Erethi vouching for him, he would have been lost.

He was brought back from his memories when Dorian kissed his hand again, bringing it up to his face and holding it there. Syrith looked to him and smiled.

“Well aren’t I glad you realized that then.  I’ve greatly benefited from that.”

“I have too,” Syrith added.

“Well of course you did, I didn’t know that needed to be voiced though.” Dorian laughed and Syrith rolled his eyes, taking his hand from Dorian’s face and moving it to push himself back up.

“Of course you didn’t… What was it like? Your room back home?” Syrith pushed back against the bed, resting against the headboard. He moved to run his hand through Dorian’s hair. The other man shook his head to push it out.

“You’re really asking me this? Do you want to make me homesick?” Dorian pushed himself up to sit next to Syrith. He pushed the blankets off of them, both growing too warm.

“Yes, right now I do. I’ve no place to be homesick for.” Syrith leaned his head over onto Dorian’s shoulder, knocking their knees together. Dorian didn’t speak for a moment, and Syrith almost grew worried, looking up to him.

“I already told you it was large. I had a view of the ocean and a balcony. I spent a lot of my time there when not with the Circle. It was my favorite place other than the library, mostly because I brought all the books that particularly interested me there. I think you would have liked it.” Dorian took Syrith’s hand and squeezed it. Syrith could almost feel his heartbeat through his palm.

“Until the Conclave I hadn’t seen the ocean. It’s… vast.”

“Oh yes, it is… But beyond the balcony there was my desk and my lounge chair I’d had imported from Antiva. I’d tell you the amount of daydreams I had that involved me living happily ever after with a man that I loved, but you’d get jealous.”

“And I bet you’d get jealous of the ones I had. You know, my dream man had always been Qunari, big and strong, someone who knows how to handle himself.” Syrith kept his laughter in, smiling as he talked. Dorian froze and scoffed.

“Well, there’s one of those back at Skyhold. I see how I’m wanted.”

“I said that was a dream, didn’t I? I like reality much better.”Syrith turned his nose into Dorian’s neck, kissing him through laughter.

“You know that joke wasn’t funny.”

“You should have seen your face.” Syrith smiled into his skin, closing his eyes, feeling the warmth rolling off of him.

“It was beautifully handsome, I already know that.”

“Of course you do, Dorian.” Syrith leaned up and kissed him, pushing him against the headboard. He hummed and and licked at his bottom lip before pulling back. “I do think we should sleep though. We’ve got a time restraint of two days to get everything made in whatever way. Are you sure they’ll even be able to finish these outfits you’ve gone and designed that quickly?”

“Of course! These Orlesians know how to work quickly for a big sum of money. I don’t think they’re above overnight jobs. We just need to get everything ordered tomorrow, but first we need to find the best tailors. It’s a lot of work.”

“So let’s sleep, and I’ll promise not to dream of better looking, more endowed, Qunari who could have swept me off my feet before you did.” Syrith poked Dorian in the chest before pulling away, making himself comfortable in the large bed. He stretched and pulled the blankets back up and over him.

“Yes, let’s hope not. I’m not as handsome when I’m jealous.” Dorian laid down with him, taking his hand and kissing it again.

The next dawn Syrith woke from a light breeze blowing through the balcony window. The sun shuffled through the curtains that blew gently inward. He sat up and stretched, stifling a yawn before looking over at the man next to him. Dorian still slept, and though Syrith had hoped he would look amusing in his sleep, he still looked handsome. Not only did Dorian look good in his sleep, but he usually had a small smile that warmed his heart and chest and made him feel better than he ever had. Syrith hadn’t told him about this, he didn’t know if he would, but he wanted to. He thought maybe it was more a matter of trying to find the right time.

During all this thinking, this staring at Dorian and wondering at what it was Syrith was feeling toward him, the man of his affections began to stir. It didn’t take long for Dorian to wake up, sitting up and running his hand through his hair. Syrith smiled and leaned forward, wrapping his arms around his knees.

“And how long have you been watching me?” Dorian finished his stretching and leaned over onto Syrith, kissing his shoulder and slipping his fingers down his spine. The elf shivered under his touch, biting his lip before turning his head toward the other.

“Not long…Have I ever told you that you… you have this smile on your face, or least you did this morning, and well… I can’t explain it,” he sighed, closing his eyes. Dorian moved off of him, his hand falling down his back until he kept him up on the mattress. Neither of them spoke, and Syrith began to feel his skin itch. He shivered again stood up from the bed, hurrying over towards where his small-clothes waited then pulled them on.

“I guess I’ll need to wake before you one morning and experience something as religious as you seem to have.” Syrith heard Dorian rise from the bed and tried his hardest to not look around. He didn’t know what it meant, but Dorian’s description seemed all too apt.

“That’ll likely never happen.” Yes, the way to dodge around whatever exactly Syrith felt was to joke, to try and play it off. It wasn’t too long ago that he could never respond to what Dorian said; his compliments, his come ons, anything that was remotely flirtatious had been lost on Syrith the first few weeks. He bit his lip again and began dressing, pulling his pants on and then his shirt.

“With how early you wake up? Of course not. I’ll have to really work you one night if I’ll want that to happen.”  Dorian seemed pleased with himself at the idea, and Syrith felt his face grow hot as he buttoned his coat. The mere idea of what Dorian would have to do to get to that point, well, his face would be red for hours. And Dorian knew what he’d done. “Ah, speechless I see. I’ll have to surprise you with it. But yes, getting dressed is probably a good idea. We can get an early walk around to see where the tailors are, and see if any open early.”

That was how Syrith successfully skipped talking about his emotions towards the man who’d he decided to spend his time with. The two dressed and ate breakfast, all the while Dorian talked about the differences between Tevinter and Orlesian fashion, and how Tevinter obviously accentuated features more while it seemed almost a competition in Orlais to see who could have the biggest ruffles and skirts. With how Dorian described his clothes from back home, Syrith couldn’t wait to see what exactly the tailors could do with his designs.

By the time they finished breakfast, and Dorian finished planning exactly how they would walk around the main shops, places were beginning to open their doors and windows. It didn’t take long for them to happen upon the first tailor.

“Tevinter style? I specialize in Orlesian fashion, you will be hard pressed to find someone who will make these… But, if you insist, I know that Marie du Ponse on the upper terrace has a kni-, forgive me Inquisitor. She has an elven assistant who… spent time there that might know the style and have a better hand than I in making it.” The tailor in the first shop whose name Syrith didn’t want to try to pronounce so as not to insult, had nothing but bad news for them. Dorian had shown not only the tailor but the tailor’s assistants the drawings he’d done of the clothes he wanted made, and every single one seemed either disgusted or confused. It was almost as if anyone to wear any other sort of clothing that wasn’t Orlesian was crazy.

“Are you certain? Aren’t you supposed to be able to do what your clients want?” Syrith began to grow angry at what this woman implied. He knew she of course was used to calling elves ‘knife-ear,’ it was basically common terminology for them in Orlais. That didn’t meant he had to be okay with it. Being among the Dalish had made it an insult he didn’t hear often, and so now, being among people that kept them as servants, that kept them as second-class citizens, it made him angry. It was one of the few things that did so.

“Yes, within reason. I do not think we will be able to prepare what you’ve asked of us within the requested time.” The tailor of course seemed to getting scared of Syrith’s attitude, and he took a deep breath before continuing.

“I understand. Thank you for your time.” Syrith handed the sketches to their assistant and turned towards the door. They could go to the elven tailor upstairs, they could go to anyone else, Syrith just wanted out of there.

“Syrith, do you want to continue with this? We could find someone at Skyhold to make these.” Dorian led them towards the cafe, where many onlooker let their gaze follow them, and even glance back. They sat in a table in the sun, and Syrith took off his coat, placing it on his chair. It was too warm for him, which seemed a foreign concept to Dorian.

“If you had really not cared about this we could have stayed there and you would have never mentioned this. You want this, and I want to help you.” Syrith took a drink of whatever Dorian had gotten him and sighed. The chill that ran through his body when the ice hit his tongue made him shiver, the sweet taste even more so. “And it’s not like I’m not benefiting from this. I want to see you in those clothes.”

“Do you now? I see what really drives the heart then.” Dorian laughed and drank, almost finishing his drink in one go. “Do you want to try and see if that other tailor will accommodate us?”

“I have a feeling they won’t. That lady implied they’re an escaped slave, and I… don’t know how they’ll feel serving an altus. Asking them for this… well it might be beyond what they’re willing to do.” Syrith didn’t know directly about what it meant to be withheld freedom, only the vague haunting stories that his parents had mentioned as much as they disliked to around him. He didn’t want to bring those sorts of memories back to them.

“Yes, I suspected that as well. Might we try another place then? There are several more, and we could compromise on parts of the design.”

“There’s no harm in trying, I suppose. If we don’t find a tailor by noon though we’ll have to give up. They won’t possibly have enough time to finish both of our outfits.” As much as Syrith hated the idea of not getting the clothes Dorian wanted, he knew it wasn’t something they could help if people couldn’t create their extremely specific design.

“You’re probably right. Let’s get this done then.” Dorian rose from the table, finishing the rest of his drink. Syrith did the same, and the two of them headed towards the next tailor they could fine.

They went to three other tailors in total, carefully avoiding the one they knew had the elf assistant. No one apparently could create what Dorian had drawn, though Syrith was more likely to believe they didn’t want to make anything for a Tevinter. It meant that the couple returned to their quarters mid-afternoon with nothing in their arms. They freed their assistant to do whatever he pleased, and retired to their room.

The first thing Syrith did was take his shirt off. He’d grown warmer and warmer as the day drew on, and the fabric peeled off his skin now. He sighed in relief as a breeze came through the window, cooling the sweat on his skin. The only thing he wanted was to sleep the rest of the day away, to not remember what a mess he’d made of the morning. The fingers that caressed his sides and waist made him tremble. Small kisses dotted his shoulders, and he placed his hands over the ones slowly moving down his abdomen.

“It seems you’ve already riled yourself up for me, amatus,” Dorian whispered into his neck, kissing it again before pushing his hand further down his pants. Syrith gasped, closing his eyes as Dorian pushed his hips forward into his.

“It doesn’t take much with you,” Syrith tried to speak clearer, to get his words out, but Dorian had claimed his mouth. One of Dorian’s hands stayed under his pants, the other came up to wrap around his chest. Heat began to build in his abdomen, and it grew to the point he didn’t want to just feel cloth covering Dorian. “But I’ll need more than this.”

Dorian seemed to get what he said, slowly moving his hands away until they were separated once more. Syrith turned to face him and smiled, kissing him soundly while he began to work on getting his clothes off. When it came to the his belt Syrith had to break away, looking down to undo it. Dorian chuckled as he did, bringing Syrith’s chin back up after he finished.

“I’ll gladly give you move. Though where you want it, you’ll have to specify.” He kissed him again and Syrith bit his lip, licking it after.

“You know.”

 

* * *

 

Warmth flooded the room as the curtains opened, letting in the afternoon sun. Syrith took a deep breath, smiling, muscles relaxing and stretching and altogether  making him feel wonderful. He felt a brush of skin on his shoulder and slowly blinked open his eyes to see Dorian sitting above him. The elf smiled, reaching his hand up to touch Dorian’s chest.

“I was going to say you smile in your sleep, but you’re much less graceful than that in your sleep.” The Tevinter leaned down, kissing Syrith on his forehead. He pushed Dorian’s face away, sitting up and facing the window.

“It wasn’t supposed to be a joke this morning, Dorian.”

“I didn’t mean to insult you, Syrith. I… merely don’t know how to respond.”

“Then don’t? I mean… I don’t know what it was this morning. I really don’t Dorian. There was just something… I don’t know!” Syrith stood from the bed, running his hands through his hair. There was nothing to make sense of, there was nothing he could match with how his heart ached and how his chest felt like it would explode.

“I think I understand, amatus.” Dorian didn’t move from the bed, he stayed sitting up against the headboard, the blanket covering his lower half. Syrith could feel his stomach rolling, his head beginning to hurt from wanting to know what exactly it was he was feeling.

“Do you? Because I think… I think I love you.” Syrith couldn’t stand to keep looking at Dorian after he spoke, turning directly towards where his clothes had been discarded. He felt bare from more than just his clothes.

“Syrith-”

“I know how ridiculous that sounds, and I know that we can’t really talk about that. I mean, what we have is more, but that’s too much, right? I’ll just go take a walk around. There’s probably nobles or something that would die to meet me.” Syrith pulled his clothes back on, trying to get out of there as quickly as possible. He was halfway through pulling his coat on when he felt Dorian’s hand on his arm.

“Syrith.” He froze and bit his lip, dropping his coat on the ground and turning back to face him. Dorian looked at him with eyes he’d never seen before, filled with the emotion Syrith knew filled his chest. He couldn’t help himself, Syrith took Dorian’s face in his hands and kissed him, crushing their mouths together. Dorian wrapped his arms around Syrith, holding him close, neither of them letting up for air until needed.

“I’m sorry if you didn’t want to hear it. I’m in love with you, Dorian. I’m sorry.”

“The last time I remember someone declaring their love for me, I was the one that felt sorry because I couldn’t return it. That is not the case this time, amatus.” He didn’t say it, at least not out-right, but the meaning was there, and Syrith didn’t lose that. He kissed Dorian again, and this time he could feel the strength, the almost urgency Dorian had returning it.

“Dorian… Do you want to go see if some of the Orlesian style clothing will do us any good? We can get your clothes made back at Skyhold.”

“I’d rather continue the night without clothes, if you wouldn’t mind. I’d like even more if you’d return what I gave you earlier.” Dorian smiled into another kiss and Syrith felt his face grow hot and nodded. “You’ll have to get out of your clothes again sadly, you keep darting to those.”

“You keep taking them off.”Syrith laughed and kissed him again, the heat and weight in his chest bursting and spreading through his body. Nothing could truly make him happier.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I really needed to write something between my current Inquisitor and his LI because the story I made for them was so cute. This is the same Syrith that's in my other work, but in this he's obviously the Inquisitor lol. Thank you for reading!


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